


Troy in D Minor

by AceAsADHA



Category: Stingray (UK TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:51:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9131215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceAsADHA/pseuds/AceAsADHA
Summary: Troy was no Atlanta, but he was one of those annoying people who had music lessons his whole life and therefore could sit down at any piano and play.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navigatorsnorth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navigatorsnorth/gifts).



> For Nav, who is the Stingray Fandom

Troy was no Atlanta, but he was one of those annoying people who had music lessons his whole life and therefore could sit down at any piano and play.

He was doing that now, at one of the local bars that was near Marineville. 

He had no song in mind as he let his fingers wander over the ebony and ivory keys.

“Hey Troy,” Troy didn’t look up at Phones, he just continued to play, “Hey, so Jimmy called me. Said you’re bumming the whole place out with depressing music and I’m no expert, but this is pretty sad stuff.”

Jimmy, the barkeeper, was a goddamn rat, “She’s gone Phone. She left and now she’s gone.”

“How much have you had to drink? Is this about Marina?” Phones huffed and slammed the hood shut.

Everyone in the bar cheered.

“Phones!” Troy exclaimed and was just glad that, in his drunkenness, he was still able to quickly move his hands away.

“Troy,” Oh no, Phones was using his serious voice, “Marina is only gone for two weeks. She’s at her father; we dropped her off at her father. We are going to be picking her up, honestly Troy.”

“I just miss her,” Troy hugged Phone’s middle and felt Phones pat him on the shoulder.

Phones sighed, “I know Troy, it’s only a few weeks, come on, let’s get you to bed. You’re going to need the sleep.”


End file.
